Edison's Adventure

We usually keep a fitted sheet over our futon. Today Edison got underneath it and was exploring, much to Rusty's amusement.

Please excuse the Law & Order soundtrack in the background.

Updates

Over spring break I went to the dermatologist to get some medicine for my eczema, and I'm pleased with how well it's been working. I used to have red splotches all over my lower legs, but now they're fading. It's actually gotten to the point where if you saw them you'd ask what happened to my legs, instead of just having an internal debate about whether I really had leprosy, or if it was merely the worst case of scabies known to man. However, my pleasure at this turn of events has not eclipsed my chagrin at the fact that soon we'll have...a minivan.

I should have gotten over it by now, and for the most part I have. I no longer get anxious at the idea of purchasing the minivan, but whenever I picture myself driving it, well...let's just say the "I'm not this old" jitters come rushing back. I was really surprised in that peoples' responses to the van is split 50/50 between positive and negative, and that two of the negatives came from Meghan and Kathy, who are highly pregnant and a stay-at-home mom, respectively. Damn, if they aren't ready for a minivan, how could I be?

Mike doesn't understand my trepidation at all.

"I've never had any minivan stigma," he told me. "I have fond memories of being in that van." He also keeps thinking of new things we could haul. Just yesterday he emailed me at work to remind me that we could use it to take our bikes places. And I have to admit, he has a point. Right now I can only fit my bike in my car, and that's only if I remove a wheel.

Of course, it may be awhile before we get it. His parents still have to find their new van, and they have standards. They want all the trimmings except leather seats. His mom really doesn't like them (I think they're too slippery for her, with her mobility problems) and wants regular cloth upholstery. Apparently it's tough to find a vehicle that's fully loaded except for leather seats.

Anyway, for now we're managing. Mike walks or rides the bus to work every day, and I pick him up in the evenings. It's not such a bad way to live.

Vehicular Concerns

Today we got the bad news about Mike's car's prognosis. It was a broken head gasket. The minimum it would cost to repair would be $1,300, and it would probably be more.

RIP, car. We'll miss you!

I had made up some long-range plans in terms of getting a replacement vehicle. I figured if we could get by with one car this spring and rely on the bus system and our bikes this summer, by fall we could take out a second loan for a used car for Mike.

His parents, however, had a different idea. They apparently can't stand the idea of their youngest boy on a bus because they're willing to get a new vehicle and give us their old one on the condition that we'd reimburse them for the remainder the vehicle's loan.

There are several hitches and details that need to be ironed out before we take them up on their offer. The biggest being that their current vehicle...is a minivan.

A minivan. A MINIVAN. I'm only 27 years old! That's too young for minivandom!

Mike is a lot more enthusiastic. His email to me was full of the possibilities that would be opened to us as minivan owners. We could haul wood! We could help people move! I'd be one step closer to soccer dad-dom!

No! I want to take a step away from soccer dad-dom! This is terrible timing, seeing as how just this weekend we started discussing when to start trying for a baby. I could feel my world closing in around me. I could see myself giving up my long commute, my trendy neighborhood, my late nights and my impromptu road trips with Mike. I could almost envision parenthood, suburbia, family life, settling down. In a flash I felt 40 instead of 27. I'm not ready to start scrubbing my toddler's vomit stains from the carpet of my husband's van! I'm just not ready!

But it's been well-maintained, and there's only about five grand left on the loan. We'll never find a vehicle in better shape for that amount of money. Taking the van may be the smart thing to do.

We still have a lot to talk about, including where we're going to park the van in our trendy neighborhood, and whether I could use it on my long commute. I know I'm growing up, but I want to do it a little at a time.

Decisions, decisions

This weekend Mike and I both found out we have some decisions to make.

On Friday I took Rusty to the vet to get his nails clipped, and they found a pea-sized lump behind his elbow. The vet was available to take a look, so she drained it and told me it was just a harmless cyst. As long as she was in there she gave him a once-over, and told me that I should bring him in for a dental cleaning.

"Is that a good idea with his heart condition? I mean, I thought sedation was dangerous for cats like that," I said.

"Heart condition? Oh yes," she said, looking back in his chart. "The vet noticed an irregular heartbeat at his last appointment. Well, let's take a listen." She put her stethoscope to Rusty's chest and listened for a long while.

Basically, here's the deal. He has this irregular beating, and they don't know why. They know he wouldn't sit still for an ultrasound or an EKG, but they think they could do an echocardiogram. After the echo they might be able to treat the problem, or not. If it's treatable, then they can go ahead and do the dental work. If it's not, well...we didn't discuss it. That's Option One.

Option Two would be to go ahead with the sedation, and realize that he's ten years old and has FIV on top of the cardiac condition and the stress of having lived as a feral cat for the first part of his life, so he's been living on borrowed time for awhile now anyway. If he comes out of it, great. If he doesn't, well...we didn't discuss that much either.

Option Three would be to leave the teeth to decay at whatever rate they're going to, realizing that he'll probably wind up contracting an infection that will end his life quickly. That's sort of letting nature take it's course.

As you can see, there are no good options. Once you start adding up the monetary cost and the toll on Rusty, the options become even less attractive. I never want to get to the point where I'm putting Rusty in pain to lengthen his life for my sake, just because I can't say good-bye. Mike has told me that I should do what I think is best, and he's behind me no matter what. But it's a really tough decision. I suppose I'll proceed with the echo, but after that...who knows.

Mike's plate is full this weekend too. Today his car, a 13-year-old Mercury Sable, was having trouble starting. When we did get it started, it spewed white smoke, nearly stalled at every stoplight, and leaked something that looked like antifreeze. Mike seems ready to ditch the car, but his parents seem determined to hold on. I really hate the idea of putting more money into the car, and Mike says he'd be fine with taking the bus and his bike since he only works three miles away. However, he'll still have some decisions to make and some negotiations to do with his parents after we hear back from the mechanic.

Decisons, decisions.

Game Night

Last night Mike and I went to his friends Kathy and Joey's house to play game night along with his other friends, Jerry and Stephanie. It was a lot of fun, and I observed Kathy's baby, Gabby, from a distance of two feet or more. I think I would have liked to have gotten closer to her, but she's been feeling poorly lately and I didn't want to upset her if she was sick. Jerry and Stephanie got to play with her a lot, so I think she got her social time in. At the very end of the night she crawled over and touched my toes, which was adorable.

By the end of the night Mike was getting excited about the idea of having a baby. Unfortunately I'd talked to my friend Jen earlier that day about how her pregnancy was going, and she said that she's gotten to a point where the baby is large enough that her organs are all smooshed around and disloacated inside her body. She mentioned that she knows that her intestines are off to her side now instead of front-and-center in her belly because she can feel gas moving around in her side. I had no idea your organs moved. Why didn't they tell us this? In my high school health class they spent two whole days talking about contraception with condoms and sponges and whatnot, but they should have just told you all the stuff Jen was telling me yesterday. I bet that would turn the average teenager off to sexual activity. So while Mike was mentally cradling an infant, my fallopian tubes had pretty much tied themselves in knots to prevent any conception, ever.

We headed home around 11 PM, and got back to our neighborhood around 11:30 or so. Then we started the fun part - finding parking.

In case you didn't know, our apartment is actually the lower level of a house. That means that we do without the luxuries that come with renting, such as snow removal, lawn care, an on-site landlord, and parking spaces. We just parallel park on the street. It's not a big deal Sunday - Thursday since parking is fairly open on our street. However, our apartment is within walking distance of two areas that have lots of bars, so on Friday and Saturday nights parking is impossible. People come from all over to park on our street and walk to the bars, so after about 7 PM the street is all full.

This makes going out on the weekends a real decision. On one hand, we could go out and have some fun...but that would mean driving up and down our block for upwards of fifteen minutes trying to find a spot, only to give up and park a long way away and hike back to our apartment. On the other hand, there's a Law & Order marathon on the USA network. Too often, USA wins out.

I'm glad we went out last night, though. It was a pretty fun night.